“Of course we’re going to wallop Fordham,” he thought.  “I wish only one thing.  I’d like to see the Fordhams play through a stiff game just once.”

It was too late, however, to give any real thought to this, for Fordham’s next and last game of the season was to be the one with Gridley.

“Are you girls going to the game?” asked Dick, when he and his chum met Laura Bentley and Belle Meade before the post office.

“Haven’t you heard what the girls are doing, Dick?” questioned Laura, looking at him in some surprise.

“I have heard that a lot of the girls are going to the game.”

“Just forty-two of us, to be exact,” Laura continued.  “We girls and our chaperons are to have one car in the first section.  You see, we’ve arranged to go right along with the team.  We have our seats all together at Fordham, too.”

“My, what a lot of noise forty-two girls can make in a moment of enthusiasm!” murmured Dave.

“We can, if you give us any excuse,” advanced Belle.

“Oh, we’ll give you excuse enough.  See to it that you keep the noise up to the grade of our playing.”

“Mr. Confident!” teased Belle.

“Why, you know, as well as we do, that we’ll come home with Fordham’s scalp!” retorted, Darrin.

“You’ve heard some of the talk about Fordham’s confidence in winning, haven’t you?” asked Laura, a bit anxiously.

“Yes,” nodded Dick.  “But that doesn’t mean anything.  You know the Gridley record, the Gridley spirit and confidence.”

“Still,” objected Belle, “one side has to lose, and the Fordham boys have all the stuff ready to light bonfires on Thanksgiving night.”

“Have you any particular friends over in Fordham?” asked Dave Darrin, with a sudden swift, significant look.

“No, I haven’t,” retorted Belle hastily.  “And I hope, with all my heart, that Gridley gains the only points that are allowed.  Yet, sometimes, so much confidence all the while seems just a bit alarming.”

“I won’t say another word, then, until after the game,” promised Darrin meekly.

“And then-----?”

“Oh, I’ll turn half girl, and say ‘I told you so,’” mimicked Dave good-humoredly.

It would have been hard to find anyone in Gridley who would have said openly that he expected the home boys to be beaten; but there were many who knew that they were more than a bit anxious.  Before the game, anyway, Fordham’s brag was just as good as Gridley brag.

“Won’t you be glad, anyway, when the Thanksgiving game is over?” asked Laura.

“Yes, and no,” smiled Prescott seriously.  “When I come back from Fordham I shall know that I have captained my last game on a High School team.  That tells me that I am getting along in life—–­that I am growing old, and shall soon have to think of much more serious things.  But, honestly, I hate awfully to think of all these grand old High School days coming to an end.  I mustn’t think too much about it until after the game.  It makes me just a bit blue.”